


Promises like Honey

by sparrow30



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Discussion of Death, Geralt being his grumpy self, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Slice of Life, and Jaskier not having any of it, discussion of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29278488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow30/pseuds/sparrow30
Summary: “What happens if your toxicity levels get too high?”Geralt had to take a moment to think before answering; toxicity was such a common part of a Witcher’s life, it had been a long, long time since he’d stopped to really consider it. “Well then I die, I suppose.”“There’s no antidote you can take?”“Usually I just wait for it to leave my system,” Geralt said with a shrug. “There’s also White Honey, but that will nullify any other enhancements I have as well, so it’s rarely worth it.”“Okay, you’re going to show me how to brew White Honey,” Jaskier said decisively, closing his notebook with a snap. “Right now.”A conversation about potions ends up revealing far deeper truths about Geralt, Jaskier, and their relationship with one another.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 281
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #015





	Promises like Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #15!**

“What’s this one?” Jaskier poked at the spherical glass bottle Geralt was in the process of decanting his newly-brewed Cat potion into.

Geralt scowled, moving the bottle away from Jaskier’s worryingly bare hands. The concoction wasn’t in any way deadly to humans (if it were Geralt would be doing this far,  _ far _ away from camp), but it would leave a nasty rash if it made contact with skin and he  _ really _ didn’t want to have to deal with Jaskier’s complaints if that happened.

“Cat,” he muttered, finishing his pour and stoppering the bottle with a thick cylinder of cork. 

“Fascinating,” Jaskier said, sounding genuinely interested in Geralt’s brewing. “What does it do?”

“It allows me to see better in the dark.”

“Don’t Witchers already have enhanced eyesight?” Jaskier whipped out a notebook from one of the many hidden pockets of his doublet and began to scribble down notes, tongue poked between his teeth in concentration.

“Well, yes, but this improves it even further. It’s useful when hunting creatures that tend to lurk in total darkness.”

“Like Strigas, or Nightwraiths?”

“Just so.” Geralt found himself reluctantly impressed by Jaskier’s immediate recollection. He hadn’t fought a Wraith of any kind in over a year, and his last Striga had been before even that. It was times like this that Geralt was reminded that Jaskier was an established and revered professor at Oxenfurt, and not just the eccentric bard that he so liked to play when he was on the road.

“Fascinating,” Jaskier repeated, tapping his pencil against his lower lip before using it to point at one of the full vials already at Geralt’s feet. “And what about that one?”

Geralt looked at where Jaskier was pointing, noting in the bright purple liquid. “That one’s Tawny Owl, it’s for-”

“Increased endurance and regeneration, yes i remember that one.” Jaskier interrupted, making another scribbled note in his book. “That one is toxic, right?”

“Only a little,” Geralt replied, pointedly ignoring the fact that he’d very nearly overdosed on it less than a month ago. “It’s worth it for the boost, though.”

“Hmmm,” Jaskier said, sounding distinctly disapproving. “If you say so.”

Geralt found himself feeling strangely defensive in the face of Jaskier’s disapproval. It was an odd feeling, and not one he enjoyed. “Yes. I do.” 

“So what happens if your toxicity levels get too high?”

Geralt had to take a moment to think before answering; toxicity was such a common part of a Witcher’s life, it had been a long, long time since he’d stopped to really consider it. “Well then I die, I suppose.”

Jaskier frowned, flicking back through his notebook to check his previous notes. There were multiple pages of them, Geralt noticed, and certainly not all from today. “There’s no antidote you can take?”

“Usually I just wait for it to leave my system,” Geralt said with a shrug. “There’s also White Honey, but that will nullify any other enhancements I have as well, so it’s rarely worth it.”

“White Honey,” Jaskier repeated, completely ignoring the second half of Geralt’s statement. “And you’re well stocked at the moment?”

“Hmmm.” Geralt looked down at his half-empty bag of potions. “I probably have one or two, but like I said-”

“Okay, you’re going to show me how to brew White Honey,” Jaskier said decisively, closing his notebook with a snap. “Right now.”

“What are you talking about?” Geralt said, his confusion morphing into anger as it was so often wont to do. “I don’t have the time to indulge in your silly curiosities. Go and play your songs somewhere and leave me to finish in  _ peace _ .”

Silence fell in the wake of his outburst, thick and uncomfortable in a way it rarely was between them any more after so long travelling together. Jaskier stared at him, still as a statue, and Geralt felt an overwhelming rush of guilt.

Huffing angrily to himself he turned his attention back to his potions. He wasn’t responsible for Jaskier’s feelings, if the bard wasn’t used to Geralt’s moods by now then that was his own damn fault.

What was it that he was doing again? 

“Do you remember that contract you took for the miners of Coppertown last year?” Jaskier’s voice was deceptively neutral when he next spoke. 

“Archgriffin attacking anyone who tried to enter or leave? Yeah I remember.” Geralt wasn’t quite sure where Jaskier was going with this, but he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t as much of a change in topic as it sounded.

“And do you remember the chunk it took out of your back?”

Geralt winced, the thick knot of scars covering his left shoulder blade aching in remembrance. That had been a nasty one, even by his standards. He’d managed to kill the Archgriffin, but not without taking a fair few hits in the process. Even with his enhancements he’d only just managed to make it back to camp before the blood loss had overwhelmed him. If it hadn’t been for Jaskier….

_ Oh _ .

Well, fuck.

“You know, I have this recurring dream. Or I suppose it’s probably more accurately a nightmare,” Jaskier said with a dry, mirthless chuckle. He wasn’t looking at Geralt, instead staring down at his hands, and Geralt could tell he was talking to himself as much as to Geralt.

“I’m up a tree, watching you fight a monster. The monster changes - sometimes it’s a hoard of nekkers, sometimes it’s a werewolf, sometimes it’s something I think my own brain has simply conjured up - but the blow that takes you out is always the same. You go down, and I rush to you as fast as I can, but there’s no blood. In fact there’s no injury at all.” Jaskier took a deep, shuddering breath, like it was almost too hard for him to continue. “Something is killing you, but I don’t know what it is. And I’m trying to heal you, but I don’t know what to do. And then you die, and somehow I know that I could have saved you if i’d only known  _ how _ .”

He interrupted himself with a choked-off sob, lifting his head to fix Geralt with a stare so piercing it felt like he was looking right into Geralt’s soul. “I know I don’t bring much to this little arrangement of ours, but helping you after a fight is something I  _ can _ do. So please, show me how, because I can’t lose you, Geralt, I just can’t.

“I-” Geralt began, feeling completely off balance. Jaskier often joked that he was a Witcher of few words, but it was rare that he was ever completely at a loss for them. He didn’t know what to say, where to even begin. He was a Witcher, death by gruesome monster attack was practically a given. How was he supposed to reassure Jaskier when he was asking for something he couldn’t guarantee?

“You do bring...much...to this arrangement,” he finally said, choosing to focus on the easiest thing to address. 

“I’m sorry?” Jaskier said, sounding surprised, like he hadn’t thought Geralt would contest that particular point.

“You say you don’t bring much to this arrangement, but you do,” Geralt said, for once wishing he had Jaskier’s way with words. “Travelling with you is...nice. It’s better than before, when I was on my own. Much better.” 

“...Oh.”

Geralt rubbed that back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise. I don’t...I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Oh,  _ Geralt _ ,” Jaskier clapped a hand to his chest dramatically, looking positively elated. “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Geralt grumbled noncommittally, feeling oddly pleased with himself. “Okay, let’s not push it.”

“We’ll make a true wordsmith of you yet,” Jaskier teased, before turning serious again. “And I appreciate the sentiment, truly. But you’re still going to teach me how to make White Honey.”

Geralt nodded and started digging through his packs to get the ingredients they’d need. “You do know I can’t promise that I won’t die on a hunt, right?” he said, focussing on laying the items neatly in front of him rather than on Jaskier, not wanting to see whatever emotion his declaration stirred up on the bard’s expressive face.

A warm hand on his forearm drew his attention back to Jaskier, who was staring at him with such warmth it made something in Geralt’s chest hurt. “I know, love,” Jaskier said oh so fondly, “Just promise you’ll let me help where I can, that’s all I ask.”

Geralt had to swallow twice before he was able to speak again. “I think I can do that.”

“Thank you,” Jasker said, taking a moment to let the word settle between them before straightening up, his notebook miraculously back in his hand and his expression all business again.

“Now, what does this do?”


End file.
